


His hand unclenched, but the spear didn't fall (yet)

by melissachan



Series: Danganronpa Short Fics [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: (no this is not a typo), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Attempted Murder, Betrayal, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Komaeda Nagito Needs a Hug, M/M, Mild Gore, Mutual Pinning, Nagito has feelings for Hajime because that's actually an important part of his characterization, Non-Consensual Hugging, Non-Consensual Kissing, Self-Harm, Suicide, Taking What Went Wrong In Canon And Making It Even More Wrong, Torture, Unhappy Ending, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, but romance is not the main focus, everyone who was alive in Chapther 5 is there as background characters, he actually gets the hug in the bonus scene yay, he's so OOC he's basically my edgy OC now, it was supposed to be one shot but something went wrong, ooc Hajime Hinata, take it as mocking/satire/critique of bad reddit takes, this is Chapter 5 AU fic so expect everything that is usually there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:02:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27536491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melissachan/pseuds/melissachan
Summary: It didn't matter how much Nagito tried to cope, to ignore, to turn away from the truth. It was before his very eyes, cold and clear.This fic is basically 6k words of bullying Nagito… Actually 5k words followed by 1k words of happy ending because I felt bad. Other 3k words are various bonus scenes.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime & Komaeda Nagito, Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Series: Danganronpa Short Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045011
Comments: 13
Kudos: 93





	1. …

The raging whirlwind of emotions in Nagito’s head slowly began to fade away. He didn’t know what the reason was: a dull throbbing pain numbing everything else he could feel, a solemnity that comes when you can sense your death creeping closer with every second, or just tiredness, the one that makes you not want to feel anything or think about anything. In any case, his mind was strangely peaceful as he lay there, waiting for the Ultimates, focusing on trying to remain conscious long enough for them to come. There was no more hate or rage left in him, just a feeling that he did his part, a sense of fulfilled duty. Everything that remained he had left to luck. If there was something he really wanted now, it was for all this to end just a little bit faster.

Nagito closed his eyes, focusing on the sounds around him, trying to notice anything behind the roaring music. Soon enough, there was a screech of the opening door, followed by the humming of Monokuma panels beginning to fall. It was weird, he thought – he expected some talks, noise, Akane and Kazuichi arguing about who’s going to beat him up first. Instead it was a very quiet, almost unnoticeable sound of footsteps, like if someone was trying to sneak in. The sense that there is something wrong began to build up inside him.

He shouldn’t worry about things like this now, he told himself. His part was done, done long ago. He opened his eyes and turned his head to the curtain, slowly – even a movement like this took a noticeable amount of effort. The feeling of uneasiness and anxiety began to rise as the humming sound stopped, but the curtain remained still; no signs of a spreading fire to be seen. The music went quiet with a click of an MP3’s switch, and he could hear the footsteps getting close.

The next thing Nagito saw was Hajime coming from behind the curtain, slowly, carefully. The thought that his plan had failed began to sink in, but as he saw a familiar face, he couldn’t help but feel relief. He hated this feeling, though. Hated to being unable to let go of these sentimental thoughts about this pathetic reserve course student, a fool who deluded himself into thinking he could become hope. But… if everyone on this island, excluding the unknown and unidentifiable traitor, was a monster not deserving to live, he might as well be glad to see Hajime the most of any of them.

It was even a comforting thought, perhaps. To let himself so be saved like this, by a person to who he felt a connection, no matter how hard he tried to deny it. The Ultimate Despair still needed to be taken down at all cost, but maybe he could find another way. Playing the victim and spreading distrust between them would be easy from his position…

“Not going to act all surprised, because I watched over you for some time already,” Hajime said with an indifferent, almost bored intonation, “but this scene was not exactly what I expected to see.”

Hajime came closer, bent over and sat down next to him with an unreadable expression. “This is easier this way though, so I think I don’t mind,” he said with the same dulled voice.

“What?” was the only question that came to Nagito’s mind. Too confused to even try to talk, which obviously would have failed because of the tape on his mouth, he looked up at Hajime who now sat nearby, slightly leaning over him. With no more words, he reached to the knife still impaled in Nagito’s hand and with one swift movement pulled it out.

This elicited a quiet pained gasp, barely audible, muffled by the duct tape. Hajime frowned slightly and ripped the tape off with another quick movement. There was something angry in the way he did it, almost hateful, but it was no wonder, Nagito thought. Nobody would feel anything pleasant about this.

Hajime looked at him from above with an oddly sinister, calculating expression, like if he was making a decision of sorts. For a second all Nagito could see was his face, and all he could feel was the warm fresh blood flowing on his hand as his fingers twitched reflectively, any sensation of pain getting lost in the overwhelming agony running through his whole body.

Hajime lifted the knife up and slowly moved it down, stabbing it right into Nagito’s right leg. It felt weird if anything; the pain came delayed, numbed, nothing similar to how it was when he first started to hurt himself. More like an overall aching sensation growing a bit stronger than a sharp pang of the stab. It got drowned in a sense of confusion, and betrayal, as Nagito’s mind failed to make even the slightest sense of the situation he found himself in. “What are you… trying to do…?” he asked, his voice weak and hoarse from the blood loss and his previous attempts to scream.

“Oh really, are you going to ask this now?” Hajime’s voice was filled with disgust. “I’m going to kill you and leave this place, of course,” he answered mockingly. This almost made Nagito want to laugh. Finally, after weeks of asking, begging, and pleading, after trying to convince everyone it was a good idea to sacrifice his pathetic life to let one of the worthy, shining Ultimates leave this cursed place, someone decided to take up his offer. Too bad he had taken it back long ago, Nagito thought. The Remnants of Despair needed to die, all of them.

“I thought I made it quite clear I don’t want to die here anymore,” he said, trying to sound careless, but his voice started to tremble a little already. Hajime looked at him curiously. He was a simple, straightforward person, Nagito thought. Too simple, perhaps. He was a useless, worthless reserve course student, too arrogant for someone of his position and skills, but he would never consider seriously harming or killing anyone, unless it was absolutely necessary. He was the one who volunteered to help Mikan in the hospital despite the danger, he was the one who looked like he was about to tear up when he was briefly accused during the Ultimate Nurse’s trial… Nagito was sure Hajime Hinata was absolutely harmless.

But then, why did the feeling of uneasiness and fear in his mind grow stronger and stronger with every second of silence between them?

“What makes you think you have a choice now?” Hajime asked with a hint of amusement in his voice, almost sounding like he was about to laugh. The same look of curiosity remained on his face as he began to twist the knife slowly, barely paying attention to his own movement, staring narrowly into Nagito’s eyes instead. The sound that escaped from him, no longer held back by the tape, was more of a whimper than a scream. The pain still felt distant, dulled, but the sensation of the cold steel moving in his flesh as it was torn apart was unbearably, deeply uncomfortable, enough to make him shiver.

Hajime lifted his hand up, pulling the knife out. Even as Nagito saw the drops of fresh blood dripping from the tip, splattering everywhere, his mind wasn’t able to accept this reality yet. After a short pause, Hajime raised the knife over him again, ready for another stab. More instinctively than by conscious decision, Nagito moved his right arm, now free and mostly undamaged, in an attempt to defend himself. Hajime wasn’t expecting this to happen, that was easy to figure out from the look of annoyance at his face, but his reaction was quick as he grabbed Nagito by his wrist.

The struggle was short, almost non-existent. Hajime was strong – or rather, Nagito was weak from the pain and blood loss. “Didn’t know you were the type to resist” – despite the annoyed look on Hajime’s face, his voice remained gleeful. He pressed Nagito’s hand down against the cold floor. He didn’t try to break free, or to move at all, even as Hajime lifted the knife again.

This time he stabbed the right wrist, just below the point where he was holding it. He plunged the knife into the flesh slowly, the sharp blade rupturing the skin and muscle effortlessly. Each time Nagito used it to cut himself, it was a swift, short movement. No matter how dedicated he was to his goal, no matter how much self-hatred he was bearing, he had to do it that way. A quick, smooth swing to inflict the wound before his instincts could stop him. This was different, though. Hajime was moving the knife carefully, almost gently, trying to drag out the time before it reaches the bone.

Being able to actually scream through this was a very relieving feeling.

Perhaps dying for the sake of Hajime’s hope was not that awful of a fate after all. Talented or talentless, it didn’t make any difference, thinking about it. They all were monsters, the incarnations of despair who committed way worse atrocities than simple arrogance and ignorance about their place. Of course, Nagito wasn’t trying to convince himself that Hajime was not one of them. But if his plan failed like this, when he was outplayed by the person with no hope or value or talent, it was such terrible luck…

And after the bad luck, something good always follows. This was the only constant of life Nagito absolutely believed.

Hajime always was the only person on this island who really made him happy. He was so sick of trying to deny it, he just gave up. He accepted the thought, letting it exist at the back of his mind. Of course, this weird sentimental feeling didn’t mean anything significant. Hajime still had to die. The only difference was the sense of sadness and uneasiness in Nagito’s mind growing a little bit stronger as he thought about this. But that didn’t matter either. He still had to go through the plan.

It never appeared to him that Hajime’s survival might be the good luck he wanted all along. Perhaps the current situation was a proof of this. “As long as the Ultimate Despair exist, the word will never heal” – the line from the file echoed in his head. But if the rest of them were dead, perhaps leaving a single survivor was not that bad. Maybe he was the Despair that the world needed to overcome to shine with even brighter hope…

Without pulling it out, Hajime moved the knife down, from the wrist to the elbow, leaving a deep, oozing cut. It sent a wave of a sharp, searing pain through Nagito’s mind, washing away all his thoughts, making him forget about the luck and hope and despair. For a short, but at the same time endlessly long moment, all that left was him wanting it to stop. Several seconds later, he found himself screaming, gasping for breath, his body shaking weakly. Hajime waited patiently for him to regain control before continuing the movement.

It was all worth it, Nagito thought. The pain is nothing, as long as it all ends with even greater hope. He had no idea why there was the need for it to hurt so much, but perhaps it was just a bit more of the terrible luck, to make the good luck even better.

“You know, I kind of lied to you earlier” – Hajime’s voice, now completely emotionless, pulled Nagito back to reality. “It’s not about me wanting to escape,” the sickening hint of gleefulness returned to his tone as he tightened his grip on the knife’s handle. “I just always wanted to do this, you know. Escaping from here is just a nice bonus,” Hajime leaned closer, staring narrowly into Nagito’s eyes. His expression was unreadable. Or rather, Nagito didn’t want to read it. He tried to lean back as much as it was possible from his position, wishing to crawl away, to run from the person before him. His mind still refused to believe – or to process the fact – that it was still Hajime Hinata.

Hajime Hinata was the first person Nagito really felt close to. He couldn’t really explain why, or at least not logically – they had the same aura, the same feeling of being normal and simple about them. Thinking back, it was pretty pathetic – to cling to the thought that Hajime had some amazing talent and feeling that closeness to him at same time, trying to have the best of both worlds. But Nagito couldn’t deny he really liked that feeling.

Hajime Hinata was the only person on this island who really wanted to spend time with Nagito. Well, “wanted” was probably too strong of a word – but he was the one who at least tried to talk to him and understand him, not being just scared, or annoyed, or confused. Sometimes in the middle of those conversations they could forget about everything, about the killing game, about the sense of bitterness that was hovering between them since the very first trial. It almost felt like they were normal friends. Those moments, for some reason, all were very precious for Nagito.

Hajime Hinata was, in general, just a person who was a joy to be around. The way he talked and the way he smiled and just the fact of his existence – it caused Nagito to feel calm and peaceful. He jokingly called it “Ultimate Serenity”, but in fact he knew it wasn’t about talent. It was an anomaly, an abnormal occurrence that didn’t fit in Nagito’s worldview. The best and the worst part: he didn’t mind it. He even wanted to imagine this feeling in another reality – just living peacefully together in a parallel world where luck and despair and Hope’s Peak Academy never existed.

Hajime Hinata swiped the knife again, plunging the blade deeper and continuing to move it down to the shoulder. The feeling of his flesh being torn apart was sharp and clear, stopping Nagito from drifting back to the numb, semi-conscious state he was in before. Several drops of blood splattered across his face. It felt warm. He didn’t scream this time, too weak and paralyzed by the fear. Hajime continued to look into his eyes closely.

Even through the bloody haze, Nagito could clearly see his expression. It wasn’t a look of the thrill the hunter gets while playing with their prey. Neither was it the morbid curiosity a child has when it comes to dissecting a laboratory rat in biology class. It wasn’t the cold, calculating expression that people have when they hurt someone because they want something from them either. No, it was the look of pleasure. He was enjoying what he was doing, thoroughly and deeply.

“I didn’t plan to actually act on my wishes from the start though,” Hajime spoke, and the sound of his voice was enough to make Nagito flinch. “However, as soon as I figured out your scheme, I knew I could use it as an opportunity” – he sounded unnatural. It was almost as he was reading the script of some sort, Nagito thought. Humans don’t talk like this. “It was such a nice set up, and since I figured it out, would be a shame to let it go to waste, right?” he leaned back a bit and pulled the knife out. The sickening expression of joy remained on his face.

Nagito knew Hajime always was a meaningless, insignificant person. Moreover, he knew that he was rotten to core, having fallen into despair, just like the rest of them. Even before everything started, before he saw the files, they were not even close enough to be called friends. So, where did this deep feeling of betrayal came from…?

Nagito knew he couldn’t give up to it. No matter how bad it is, there needs to be hope at the end. Maybe… Hajime wasn’t ruining his plan. Perhaps he was the traitor, and then he will escape for the hope of the whole world. The diary means nothing at all, for all he knew it could be a simple distraction. What better way to clear yourself of any suspicions than to write about yourself in your own journal after all?

And, if something was done to The Remnants to make them act like kind, friendly kids, then maybe it made the traitor, the only good person among them, act like… this. Right, it all made perfect sense. This person… was not Hajime Hinata. Perhaps, when he escapes from this place, the real Hajime Hinata will remember and appreciate his sacrifice… If so, it was not a bad end at all.

The knife was plunged into Nagito’s left shoulder, with the same slow movement that felt almost familiar. It made him clutch the rope tighter, instinctively. It was the spear’s cord – he had almost forgotten about its existence at this point. His fingers were numb, cold and stiff – he almost felt like he couldn’t unclench them even if he wanted to.

“I always hated you, you know,” Hajime spoke with bitterness and disgust and gleefulness mixing in his voice. “I didn’t just want you to disappear from this place” – he lifted up the knife, then stabbed again. He was completely focused on talking, but his movements remained slow and methodical. “If that was the case, I could just take up your offer at any time, but the thought of you dying on your own terms was unbearable” – the words came with another swing. Nagito’s left hand started to tremble, as the crackling sound of his already ruptured skin, muscles and tendons being ripped up further got to him.

“So, your target was the traitor, right?” Hajime’s tone switched from cold and bitter to mocking and amused. “Not sure if I should say this, but…” – he really seemed to hesitate. “I think I know who it is. It’s Chiaki Nanami. She was the one who stopped me from going into that room,” he explained, looking into Nagito’s eyes like he was expecting to see some sort of reaction. There was a long pause. Hajime waited, not even moving the knife, as though he didn’t want to distract Nagito from listening to his words.

“Oh, seems like I was right,” Hajime proclaimed, the look of curiosity switching to something more sinister. “So, you wanted to save her. I knew you wanted her to kill you, but wasn’t sure if it was because you wished for her to escape, or to be executed” – there was something deeply wrong with the way he spoke. Nagito couldn’t put his finger on it, but something about it made him feel sick. “Too bad, now she will die with the others” – Hajime shrugged, the knife glimmering in his hand. “And so will you” – another stab followed his words.

Hajime’s movements became more sharp as he was injuring the left hand further. He wanted the spear to drop, Nagito understood. He was scared. Death had followed him since long ago, but only now had he really felt it creeping close. He wanted nothing more than for it to end, but something primordial inside him made him clutch the rope with all his strength. He knew he wouldn’t last long. Hot blood splattered on his cold fingers, making them slippery.

Before letting go, he managed to close his eyes, hoping it would be quick.

He waited, but there was no blow. He knew the anticipation would make the time seem longer, but this was taking forever. He opened his eyes. Hajime was still leaning over him, now holding the rope – the cord. He blinked, and looked at Nagito weirdly – not with hatred or disgust, but rather confusion and fear. “Nagito? What the… what happened to you?” he asked quietly, pulling the spear up to a safe distance. “God, you’re losing so much blood… See, you definitely owe me an explanation later, but for now try to not move, I’ll get you out of there,” he leaned down, reaching for the rope.

No, Nagito didn’t believe in it, not even for a second. It was clearly a trick of some sort. He struggled with all his power to not let even the slightest bit of relief or hope invade his mind…

He was almost glad to feel the touch of the knife yet another time, now going deeply into his left wrist.

“Oh, not even going to play along, what a shame,” Hajime sounded disappointed. “Don’t you think I could get the Despair Disease and go nuts because of it like Mikan or something? C’mon, try to think about a new way to cope. Coping and living in your own delusions, after all that’s all you’re good for” – there was no anger in his voice, just gloating.

“But I want to make it as clear as I could” – Hajime pushed the knife deeper. “I always, always hated you” – he twisted it around, right and left. “Every time I had to see your face, that feeling got stronger, and stronger and stronger” – he swiped the blade across the arm, making the blood splatter everywhere. “Every time I had to talk to you to, quite literally, save my life” – there was a scream as he pulled the knife out. “I didn’t just wish it to end as soon as possible, I wanted to turn your every word into a cry of pain” – Nagito wasn’t sure if it was really a cry of pain, or if he just wanted to stop listening.

He felt fear. He couldn’t say he was not scared before, but this was a different kind of terror. Not the fear of death, nor of the pain that could be inflicted to his body. It was the fear from knowing the fact that the person before him was real Hajime Hinata.

He tried to struggle, to do anything to get even just a little less close to Hajime’s face, but his vain attempts at movement did nothing except cause him more suffering. All he could do was turn away. Don’t look at him. Don’t look, don’t see, don’t hear, don’t think. He closed his eyes again, focusing on the darkness before him. He tried to concentrate on the pain pulsing through his every limb, on the warmth of the blood underneath his right hand, on the harsh touch of the rope on his wrists and ankles. On anything, just to make all the thoughts go away.

Hajime stood up. The rope remained in his hand. “So, this is what will happen from now,” he started, sounding calm, almost casual. For some reason, this change of tone dragged Nagito back to reality. “After some time, when everyone will find the ‘bombs’, I will rush here first. I will pretend that the door is blocked, and then push those panels inside, starting the fire,” he paused, as if he was thinking about something.

“Not sure if I could convince everyone that you managed to hold the rope the whole time with that condition of your arm. After all, you didn’t” – he loosened his grip and lowered the cord a bit, enough for the spear to touch Nagito’s stomach, but not do any damage. The pressure of the metal made him feel queasy, but he didn’t react. Not by some kind of willpower; he just had no strength to react anymore, being on a verge of losing consciousness.

“So I’ll probably say it was attached to the curtain and then fell when it got damaged by the fire. Yes, it won’t be hard to make it seem like this,” Hajime continued, looking around the scene. “After throwing those grenades and extinguishing the fire, I will say we should split up to investigate everything. Then take Sonia and Chiaki with me to your cottage, and leave everyone else to examine the crime scene. I'll convince them it would be more efficient, considering we got such little time. And say that girls like them shouldn’t look at the body in such an awful state. Akane doesn’t count… okay, I will pretend to count her, but then say I’ll be more useful there, since I know you the most and so I could make the most sense from any possible evidence” – Nagito wasn’t sure why he was following his insane monologue. It sounded like something a bad movie villain would say.

“As soon as we find the poison, I will plant the idea that it was the real murder weapon into their minds. Not too hard, considering how fitting it is for the crime scene. Having Chiaki and Sonia by my side, it will be easy to manipulate the trial into thinking the original plan worked” – he pulled the rope, making the spear go up again. “Nobody will know about our little encounter… until I tell them in the end, of course. So, when they will realize the goal was to make the traitor into the killer, Chiaki will confess. If she won’t, I will make her with the diary,” it sounded like Hajime was satisfied. “So there’s everything that will happen in this case. The blackened, Hajime Hinata, wins,” he declared gleefully.

“Oh, I’m sorry” – the familiar hint of hatred returned to his voice. “I forgot you are not a fan of my long monologues” – he sounded like was about to laugh.

He let go of the rope.

\---

Hajime looked coldly at the person lying at his feet. There were countless wounds all over his body, but now the most attention-catching part was the spear stabbed into his stomach. Hajime leaned down to him and put his hand on Nagito’s chest. He could still feel him breathing, both slowly and shallowly. His heart was pounding rapidly, the proof of his fear. He was still suffering. It was a pleasing thought, but Hajime had a job that needed to be done.

He took the knife and stabbed it into Nagito’s right hand, just where it was at the beginning. Nagito didn’t scream – he probably couldn’t at this point, but his body flinched a little, enough to bring the feeling of satisfaction.

Hajime picked up the tape. He had taken it off just so he could hear the screams. There were enough of those. He wanted to hear Nagito beg and plead for mercy too, but had no idea what could possibly achieve this. He never would now, and it was a bit sad. Hajime wiped off the blood, then placed the tape back over Nagito's mouth. The less deviations there were from the original scene, the better.

He looked at Nagito for the last time. Despite his closed eyes, he could clearly see the agony on his face. As it should be. It was enough, he had to tell himself, fighting the urge to go for more and throw away his chance to escape.

After looking around the scene carefully and concluding there’s nothing that should be changed, he left quietly.

\---

Only when Hajime’s footsteps dissolved in the distance, Nagito could open his eyes. Every part of his body that wasn’t exposed to the overwhelming pain felt numb from remaining in the same position for so long. He knew it was his own fault, and he knew he deserved it – as Hajime said, dying on his own terms was too good of a fate for someone like him, for a person who was weak enough to fall into despair.

Despite this, he found the room to feel glad that he was finally left alone. Countless times he wanted to let himself escape into the painless darkness, but there was a thought that kept him from losing consciousness.

He couldn’t let Hajime Hinata win.

There wasn’t much that he could do about this. In fact, there was just one thing. He moved his right arm, the only free one. He pushed the knife’s handle against the floor, trying to get as much of the blade to stick out as he could. The pain was distant, as if the hand didn’t belong to him anymore. The strongest sensation was the weight of the knife as he lifted his arm again. He threw his head back, exposing his neck.

He was scared. He hoped one strike will be enough to kill him quickly. If he gets lucky to stab the right spot, it’ll be over in a few seconds, and he knew he had to believe in his talent. After a brief hesitation, he swung his arm downwards, putting all of his little remaining strength into this movement.

The pain was sharp, but very short, and Nagito started to feel faint and light-headed almost instantly. There was less blood than he imagined – or maybe it just seemed this way because his face and neck and chest were already stained. He jerked his hand back immediately, hoping he’d be fast enough to reposition it. His eyes remained wide open as the merciful numbness was spreading through his body quickly. His vision became blurry. Soon enough his body went limp and lifeless.

\---

“So, please, believe in me. And vote for me,” Chiaki said, smiling warmly. Hajime almost felt bad for her. Almost. Sonia seemed like she was about to cry, while everyone else shared the same look of anger and confusion on their faces. Hajime was not an exception. He had to play his part.

“But asking me to vote for you… is the same as asking me to kill you,” he said, trying his best to keep the sadness in his voice realistic.

“Puhuhuhuhu… enough of this charade, please. It’s time to vote” – Hajime almost felt grateful for Monokuma’s intervention.

“Don’t worry about this… I don’t want to say goodbye, but… I’m somewhat happy I was able to protect everyone. So, I know, that even without me you all have a shining future ahead of you, right?” Chiaki continued to smile.

“I can’t do this, man… After what old man Nekomaru taught me, to never give up on your life, to let you just do it… Damn it all, I’m just going to vote for myself!” Akane yelled angrily, and smashed the button.

“Why vote for yourself if you can vote for this creep Nagito?” Kazuichi scratched his chin. “This is just not fair. Yes, this is what I’m going to do,” he pressed the button. By the long sob that he heard from Sonia’s bench, Hajime realized she probably did the same.

“Guys, are you fucking kidding me? It’s not some kind of child’s play. You don’t want Chiaki to die for you, but you are going to just shit on her own wishes and make her go through this? Do you know how much it fucking hurts?! I know it! And she will have to deal with the guilt of killing all of you, all alone!” – Fuyuhiko wasn’t amused.

“Hajime… Please…” Chiaki looked up at him. He had never seen her that worried. Of course, it didn’t matter if he would vote for her, or for Nagito, but…

“Yes… Of course, Chiaki. I don’t want you to die for me… but even less do I want you to live with the guilt of making me die for you,” he said with a soft, calming voice. He pushed the button. Chiaki Nanami. The voting machine spun, showing three of her stylized portraits.

“Thank you, everyone… Just… know that despite lying to you, all the time we spent together was real. I was really happy… to be your friend,” she closed her eyes, completely ready to accept whatever fate was waiting for her ahead.

“Puhuhuhuhuhu… Chiaki Nanami… was not the blackened!” Monokuma exclaimed with his usual cheerful voice. “So, according to the rules…” he smiled sinisterly…

“You will all be punished… besides me” – Hajime finished it for the bear. Looks of disbelief and horrified gasps surrounded him as the truth started to sink in slowly. Kazuichi screamed, Akane looked like she was about to lunge at him and beat him up.

“So you… are the traitor? Or did you…?” Sonia was the first one to break the silence. “You lied to us, you bastard! I said you shouldn’t be trusted all along and I was right!” Kazuichi shouted, looking way more scared than angry. There were tears in the corners of his eyes.

“No, I’m not the traitor,” Hajime answered calmly, without any hints of remorse. “What I told you about Nagito’s plan was mostly true. He was planning to make the traitor kill him, and created this complex crime scene to make us think he committed suicide and made it look like a murder to get us killed,” he explained. “I knew it all along, so I decided to take an advantage of this. I had no idea he would hurt himself that badly, but I think it made it easier. He couldn’t resist at all when I started to have fun with him myself” – the memory of it was still fresh in Hajime’s mind, and it reflected vividly in his expression.

“So after you found him, you decided to finish the job. How cruel,” Sonia said with an empty expression. “So this is how he was ‘able to’ inflict all those injuries with his arm being cut open… damn, I knew it was fucking impossible,” Fuyuhiko looked angry, more at himself than at Hajime. “But why?” he asked, clenching his fists.

“I wanted to leave this place,” Hajime said casually, like he was talking about eating someone else’s cookies, not committing a murder. “It was fun here for a while, but I got bored already. If you’re curious, I don’t have a terminally ill mom or traumatized guinea pig waiting for me; I just got a little sick of this island and didn’t want to waste my life here anymore,” he shrugged, getting a bit tired of explaining everything.

“Why torture him?” Fuyuhiko asked. “It seems counterproductive to your goal if anything, to waste so much time and inflict the wounds that made it very hard to believe he could do it to himself,” he noted with a clear tension in his voice.

“Ah, that. Well, why not? I just wanted to see him suffer. I was more than willing to take a little risk for this,” Hajime got really bored of talking. Fuyuhiko looked at him with disgust. So did everyone else, with their emotions being mixed with fear, anger and confusion. The only exception was… Chiaki. The expression on her face was one of concern and a deep, deep sadness. But Hajime didn’t care about it all the same.

“So, Monokuma, as you said earlier, can you finish this charade?” he asked, ready to claim his victory.

“Puhuhuhuhuhu, of course, of course,” the bear laughed. “As I said, the blackened was not Chiaki Nanami…” – he raised his hands – “And not Hajime Hinata!”

What?

“It was Nagito Komaeda!” – Monokuma grinned, his left eye gleaming red. “Seems like the victim decided to end the most important life – his own – and fatally stabbed himself!” the bear hung his head, making a familiar expression of fake sadness.

“What are you taking about?” Hajime’s voice was beaming with anger. “I killed him. I took the spear’s cord from his hand, then I let it go. I was thinking of making him drop it himself, but was wondering if it could be ruled out as suicide by your stupid rules, so I didn’t” – he was mad, and this was not only about being not able to escape. There was something… personal about it.

“Hey, what the hell, take it easy,” Monokuma said defensively. “Think about it, when you saw him for the last time, he was alive… not only did you know it, it seemed to me like you made sure of it.”

It didn’t make sense.

“You left him there, alive and alone, with a weapon still in his hand,” the bear was making fun of him. “What do you think he did? Of course, he stabbed himself! It could be hard to decide which of you two is the blackened if he died from blood loss from all those wounds, but it was a clean kill. A stab to the neck; it ended his life in less than a minute,” Monokuma’s voice was now low and sinister.

“Hey, you didn’t even go to check his body, too absorbed into your own theory. Too bad you didn’t vote for him, right, Hajime?” the bear’s voice made him feel cold. His body suddenly became heavy, like he was about to sit on the ground in any second.

“In any case, since the blackened is not here to claim their reward,” Monokuma waved his hand. “I will just punish everyone!” – the bear laughed. It was not his usual playful laugh. It was something more… serious. Merciless. Sinister.

Six metal chains came down from the ceiling, with a steel collar attached to each. One of them was right behind Hajime’s back. Akane tried to run, in vain. Chiaki waited, the look on her face remained unchanged. Hajime attempted to escape as well. He had to, even if knew there was no point.

As the cold collar clicked on his neck, grabbing him and pulling up to the ceiling, the only emotion he felt was hatred. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Izum for beta read and to Tunie and Chestnut Panta for pointing out additional typos/errors.


	2. Bonus Scene: Hugs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't publish that part initially because writing it made me question my life choices, but now I don't care so there we go. May consider this a bonus scene or something. Supposed to be before the "Closing Argument" part of the original fic.

“Consider this to be… a farewell gift,” Hajime spoke after the long pause, his voice now gentle and quiet. Nagito kept his eyes closed. He didn’t want to listen to anything anymore, keeping concentrating on the coldness of the concrete underneath him. Through the darkness he could feel Hajime leaning closer – more than he even did before, enough to feel the warmth of his body. He was expecting the familiar touch of the sharp steel, but instead heard a soft quiet clang, as Hajime put the knife nearby. He felt the weight of Hajime’s hands now – he was holding his shoulders, gently, but Nagito could feel it very well, the only alien sensation that wasn’t the agony caused by his ruptured skin and torn up muscles. Hajime leaned closer…

This movement suddenly evoked a new flash of fear. Nagito wanted Hajime to do anything – speak, stab, cut, pick up the lighter and burn him because he probably got bored with the knife by now – anything to end this anticipation. Instead he felt Hajime’s breath – warm, slightly tickling – on his face. He turned away, the only movement he still could perform, but Hajime touched his cheek lightly, returning his head to the previous position. He was so devoid of any strength and will to resist that it didn’t even feel forceful.

“A farewell gift for letting me escape – and doing it this way, keeping myself pleased with how it turned out,” Hajime whispered into his ear. His voice was sweet, but still filled with disgust and hatred, and even with his eyes shut tight Nagito could almost see his sickening smile. He leaned closer. The touch of his lips was gentle. Nagito’s body twitched, as he tried to press his head into his shoulders, clenching his teeth. He lifted up his right hand, pathetically slowly, and pressed it against Hajime’s cheek. He didn’t catch it this time, but Nagito’s remaining strength wasn’t enough to push him away even slightly. His arm fell back, powerless, leaving a trail of blood on Hajime’s face.

He felt something wet and slippery touching his lips, moving slowly and flexibly. He wanted to scream, but something in the back of his mind reminded him it would let Hajime… do what he was trying to do. All he could do instead was shut his eyes even tighter. Every muscle in his body felt tense as the visceral disgust got stronger with every second. Hajime hugged him on the shoulders softly, clearly putting a lot of effort to not touch any of his wounds. Feeling those arms around him was almost… no, he won’t give up to it. He won’t ever find anything comforting in it. The gentle and warm hug outlined by the unbearable pain blended all his sensations, making the agony burn with new strength in his mind. A long whimpering sound escaped from him as he was still struggling to not open his mouth.

Only when Hajime leaned back, did he understand that he was shaking uncontrollably.

“Hey, what’s up with that face?” Hajime said with clear annoyance in his voice, and by the sound that followed Nagito understood he just spat somewhere on the floor nearby. “If someone here needs to make a face like this, it should be me. Like, weren’t you in love with… the hope that sleeps deeply inside me or something?” he asked, barely keeping himself from laughing. Nagito flinched, trying to shrink back as much as the ropes would let him.

All he could do now was feel glad he had not enough energy to show how much it got to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Izum for beta read.


	3. Bonus Scene: Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there. These are bonus scenes that I wrote because I couldn't leave this fic alone and now I decided to publish them.  
> The first one is a bonus ending scene featuring Chiaki.  
> The second one is more torture because Komaeda needs to suffer more for every fluffy moment he got.  
> The third one is an alternate ending.

As the collar started getting closer to his neck, Hajime saw a sudden movement nearby. Chiaki approached him with a speed he had never seen before and quickly grabbed his hand, pulling him aside. She moved unnaturally swiftly, almost like she was teleporting.

"Hajime. I know you are not a bad person", she suddenly said as they ran past the trial ground in the hallway. Hajime frowned, not being able to really trust her. Did she really understand? "Even with your memories, I believe you can be saved."

His memories? It didn't make any sense.

"The traitor is incapable of betraying the Future Foundation, but the traitor has not only limitations, but also privileges. The traitor can use it to fulfill their goal. To protect everyone." She smiled warmly.

"Right now I will move us into the old ruins. I don't know what exactly is inside, but from there, you can escape. At least I think." – She was in a rush, both running and talking, trying to stay far enough from the collar. "But before I do this," – she stopped and looked into his eyes.

"Just know that even if you regained your memories and stopped being the Hajime Hinata I know," – she took a step forward, hugging him tightly. "I still believe you can be a good person. By your own strength, you will use this chance to become the Hajime Hinata I know. And that Hajime Hinata would never hurt anyone, right?" – she looked up on him with a serious expression.

"Regained my memories? What are you even talking about?" – he looked at her, confused. She took a step back. She looked at him emotionlessly, almost robotically. "I am the one and only Hajime Hinata."

As he said it, she tilted her head and took another step back. Her eyes were empty. The look on her face reminded him of Nagito, when he was struggling desperately to break eye contact, overtaken by the pain and fear. But it didn't bring the same satisfaction.

She didn't move as the collar grabbed her by the neck, mercilessly pulling her back. Hajime heard Monokuma groaning about something, followed by a familiar laugh. Before he could shake off the confusion and continue running, the steel chain reached him as well, clicking on his neck and pulling him through the floor, and then through the sky of a familiar trial ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Izum for beta read.


	4. Bonus Scene: Hope

At some point Hajime understood he needed to stop with the right arm. One more cut, and it will get too implausible, ruining all his escape plan. It seemed too early for the left arm, though, so he moved down, staring at Nagito's leg. Down from knees, there seemed to be a lot of clean, soft flesh to work with.

Without much thought, he moved the knife down, tracing it slowly across the shin. Fresh blood poured from the cut, warm against the cold steel and Nagito's own skin that almost seemed even colder, accompanied by soft pained gasps and muffled sobs. They turned into a scream as Hajime applied more pressure, pushing the handle stronger and stronger, until it hit something hard – the bone, probably. He didn't stop, tightening his grip, until something crunched, making Nagito threw his head back in agony, crying out until he was out of breath to make any sound with. A shame he could not see his face, Hajime thought, what a spectacle it probably was.

He didn't seem to even try to hold back his screams, though; probably found some kind of delusion to make it easier. Nagito's body wriggled, his own convulsive movements making the knife rip up the flesh further, until Hajime pulled it out. He needed to give him some time to catch his breath – it would be a shame if he ended up losing consciousness so soon.

Just cutting him was boring, Hajime thought. He probably needed to add something new to it. Maybe carve some words or something. Yes, it would be totally plausible if it was something like "useless" or "worthless". But those insults seemed boring too. It needed to be something that would get to Nagito. "The Ultimate Hope," he thought gleefully, and lifted up the blade again.

He needed to be slow now, so Nagito would understand what he meant, Hajime thought. Moreover, dragging out the agony was what he aimed to do, so it felt like a great idea anyway. He continued tracing the knife, cutting the skin unevenly. The sounds of pain got louder for a little while, as he was swiping the knife, now not just methodically, but deliberately, expressly slowly, trying to make each little stroke special. Then they got weaker and weaker again, until they stopped altogether about halfway through, and all Hajime could hear now was Nagito's heavy, uneven breathing.

Hajime lifted up the knife, finally. He looked at the words, but they were blurred by the blood, unreadable. What a disappointment. He tried to write something on his own hand, with a finger instead of the knife. Of course, he didn't feel what it was. He sighed in annoyance and moved up, now looking into Nagito's eyes again. Nagito seemed weirdly calm, looking at him with more tiredness than anything, continuing to breathe heavily.

"Hey, did you get what I wanted to do?" Hajime asked, but there was no reaction. "C'mon, I put effort into it," he groaned, pointing the knife at Nagito's face, making him flinch, pressing his back against the floor, leaning back slightly to the left, creating as much distance as his free hand would let him. For some reason, seeing him struggle in vain brought even more satisfaction than his screams. "Try to guess it with your Ultimate talent or something," Hajime suggested, shrugging. "If you guess it right in one try, I will kill you. Quickly, painlessly. Stab you once in the heart, and it all will end," he said, smiling as sweetly as he could.

His only answer was silence.

"Okay, okay. Will do it as you wish," Hajime said, shrugging. "Now, please try to pay more attention," he added. Before turning away, thinking what would a good creative phrase for another leg, he noticed a flash of fear in Nagito's eyes as he realized what was about to happen next. It was his own fault, though, Hajime thought. He himself was never a fan of writing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Izum for beta read.


	5. Bonus Scene: Alternate Ending

“Hey, what else could I do to you?” Hajime asked cheerfully, not stopping with the slow, methodical movements of the knife in his hand. He was tracing it right and left, drawing shallow red lines across Nagito’s chest. They were barely noticeable at this point, more stinging than actually hurtful. Any pain he could feel from them was overshadowed by much more strong, violent sensations of the pulsing, throbbing agony running through both of his arms and legs. All those motions did was remind him that Hajime was still there, standing over him… and that probably was their purpose. “C’mon, I want to have fun, but don’t want it to go too far for me to get out of here. Think of something cool and I will do exactly that; nothing more, nothing less” – he was starting to sound bored, but a glint of playfulness remained in his voice.

Nagito remained silent, focusing on controlling his breath, the only thing he had control over in this situation anymore. He wouldn’t beg for mercy. He could have asked for death if he knew there was the slightest chance for it to work, but there wasn’t and that fact was clear enough.

“I could burn your face and cut off your tongue, but sitting there in silence would be very boring,” – Hajime sighed, disappointed. Nagito grew numb to his insane speeches by now, as they started to get less personal, and more similar to generic attempts to evoke fear in one’s victim. If it wasn’t for the pain tearing his mind apart, not leaving much room for any other emotions other than wishing to escape from it, he could almost find them amusing. “God, your silence is so annoying,” Hajime groaned, lifting up the knife and pointing it at his face again.

Nagito looked at it with his eyes half-closed from tiredness. It could inflict agony on him, but he felt so much of that already he could barely care. Seeing that something that evoked strong reactions earlier wasn’t working anymore, Hajime started to look even more annoyed and disappointed, and that detail was enough to make Nagito’s eyes open wider, heart somehow beating faster than it already had been.

“Okay, now I don’t care for escaping, you know? I just want to hear your screams. At least one for each word you said,” he spoke coldly, and moved the knife down. He plunged it right below Nagito’s chest, deeper than usual, but not enough to make it a stab rather than a cut. Nagito’s body wriggled instinctively, his back rubbing weakly against the floor as Hajime traced the knife down, now much quicker than before. Somehow, it wasn’t even painful anymore – all that remained was a paralyzing feeling of terror when he started to understand what Hajime was about to do.

His body was weak and he was losing blood at an alarming rate. He wouldn’t last much longer. All he needed was to endure it for a little bit more. He couldn’t think or even begin to imagine how and why anymore, but he knew that hope would triumph in the end anyway.

Hajime put the knife aside, now digging his finger into the wound. Nagito let out a weak muffled noise, something between the scream he was trying to make and the cough that his tired and shaking body would allow. Hajime raised his head a bit, staring into his eyes attentively. It seemed like he liked what he was observing now, enough to bring back his previous amusement.

Nagito stared at the ceiling, trying not to think of what was happening. It didn’t matter in any case. It will all end soon enough, he told himself and tried to think about hope it could bring, the pleasant memories and calming moments, but nothing came to his mind except the imagery of Hajime’s face with anticipation and sadistic glee written all over it.

He felt how Hajime slowly moved the flesh apart, as if he was ripping a piece of cloth in two. The feeling of all the things that weren’t supposed to ever be exposed contacting the cold air of the warehouse was almost enough to make Nagito forget about his arms and legs. When Hajime moved his arm inside, slowly twitching his fingers, Nagito suddenly remembered how to scream properly again. His back arched when he felt Hajime’s hand pressing against something that felt like it was burning from the touch of it, even more than his skin was from every merciless stab. Then Hajime began to squeeze…

Nagito’s mind was merciful enough to let him drift into the unfeeling unconsciousness before his understanding of what exactly Hajime was trying to do could start to sink in.

\---

“Hey, what exactly are… you… doing…?” – the tone of Hajime’s once confident voice faltered suddenly, going from an angry yell to a weak scared whisper in a matter of seconds. What just happened was getting to him slowly, but surely, as the strong blow from above brought him down. He lifted his head up, trying to at least get on all fours, but something heavy was holding him in place. Leaning his hands against the floor, he realized they were covered in blood – and now it was not only Nagito’s blood.

Only then did he scream, loudly and desperately, as something finally clicked in his head and allowed him to understand everything that just happened to him.

“How… could you…” he spoke, but his voice was cut short by a violent cough, the blood from his mouth now splattering across Nagito’s once white shirt. The pain started to sink in, evoking another shout, echoing loudly across the half-empty room. But of course, still nobody heard his voice now. Hajime had sent everyone far away, so nobody could hear anything, by himself. But even if they had, he knew they couldn’t help him, because now the spear was piercing him from his back to his stomach, pinning him to Nagito’s body and then to the cold concrete floor.

“You think… you are… so smart, I bet,” he hissed, continuing to cough violently between the words. In a blind rage, he grabbed the knife and stabbed the person underneath him in the stomach, twisting the blade and pressing its handle cruelly. Only after several minutes did he understand Nagito wasn’t feeling it anymore. The realization came from the utter lack of response – he had been quiet at times, but never completely silent and motionless. Trying to ignore the pain in his body, Hajime straightened his back and moved his head up, now looking into Nagito’s eyes again. They were still half-closed and unfocused, and it seemed like the light had left them, although he was still breathing and shaking; Hajime could feel that clearly from being so close to him.

Gathering his strength, Hajime lifted his hand, slapping Nagito’s face several times, but he did not react. Damn, all those action movies lied to him…

Hajime suddenly moved down with a loud groan as the pain started getting to him. He felt it before, but now it seemed like his body lost all its resources to resist. He fell on Nagito’s chest, powerless and helpless, feeling his heartbeat. The only emotion stronger than his pain was rage, and it made his body wriggle as he hit Nagito’s face again, this time with all his power. But that didn’t help either, only making Nagito turn his head to the side. Hajime wanted to cry from powerlessness, the pain slowly getting stronger and stronger. He tried to get up again, but the agonizing sensation of moving with the metal still inside brought him down with another yell.

He tried again, and again, half enraged, half hoping that his body would give up from the pain just like had happened to Nagito, but nothing happened. Running out of energy and power, he was lying on Nagito’s cut and bloodied chest again. His heart was still beating… until it wasn’t, as Hajime felt how his broken body twitched for the last time and went limp.

He sobbed. All that left for him was to lie there, waiting for the same happen to him.

“Hey, Nagito! Are you there?! Damn, I’m going to beat that bastard up!” Akane yelled loudly and busted the door. As she moved inside, Hajime suddenly heard the familiar clattering of the panels falling.

“Damn, I knocked something down…” she said awkwardly, and Hajime was ready to cry and laugh at same time as he saw the fire ignite the curtain.

“Akane, be careful, there’s fire!” – Sonia’s worried voice cut through the silence.

“The smoke could be very dangerous, so you should leave right now!” Fuyuhiko yelled. Akane tried to argue, but it seemed like the others stopped her by force.

“I saw firefighting supplies in the restroom! We should get them, so hurry!” Sonia said confidently.

“Hey, guys… Has anyone seen Hajime recently? He said he would investigate this area, but I couldn’t find him anywhere… I’m so worried…” – Chiaki’s soft voice was the last thing he heard before the footsteps and the voices went quiet.

If they were to throw grenades at him… It would mean one of them would kill him, Hajime understood. And considering what Nagito just experienced, it most likely would be Chiaki. Hajime couldn’t let it happen. If Nagito had wanted her to live, she must die.

His mind was working fast, frantically going through solutions. He could’ve… written her name in the blood or something. His arms already were soaked in it, both Nagito’s and his own… Unfortunately, they were lying in the pool of blood now, and it wouldn’t be too credible if he carved it on Nagito’s flesh as well.

He should… just go and kill himself before she could. Yes, it was such an easy solution. He’d do anything to not let him win. Grinning slightly, he reached for the knife still lying nearby. He couldn’t make it reach his chest, pinned too close, but he could stab his temple… or his neck. But as he lifted it, he suddenly felt fear again. Why was he so scared right now? It was over for him the moment he overestimated Nagito’s endurance. He should just do it and everything would be alright.

But he couldn't, his hands shaking all too much, hot tears filling his eyes as he looked at the knife's point in fear.

Something whistled nearby, and a fire grenade landed on the floor and broke. A purple liquid started to pour out from it, covering everything nearby in smoke. As Hajime took a breath of it, the knife fell from his hand with a clang, splattering the blood on the floor everywhere around. Hajime’s hand followed soon enough as his whole body went numb and his consciousness faded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Izum for beta read.


End file.
